


To Leave & To Follow

by EmrysRealmskip



Series: To Come When Called Series [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blow Jobs, Bottom Hannibal Lecter, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Established Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Europe, Grief/Mourning, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, M/M, Murder Husbands, Mutual Pining, Omega Will Graham, Public Blow Jobs, Rimming, Season/Series 03, Soulmates, Suicidal Thoughts, Switching, Top Will Graham, Trust Issues, season 3 Hannibal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-23 02:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30048243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmrysRealmskip/pseuds/EmrysRealmskip
Summary: Sequel to “ To Come When Called “ loosely based off of season 3.Will wakes from his coma, aching with the distance from his alpha. Will he follow the cannibalistic man to wherever he roams? Or will he put the past behind him, or die trying...
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: To Come When Called Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2214585
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	1. We were supposed to leave

****

**BLACK.**

_It swarms, engulfs, it's without noise, just a blank space between his ears...Where his hollow head lies empty. Dead._

_The burning of a blade shines through, red light behind his eyes, and the singe of tasteless pain. The smell of iron and rust._

_Then, his eyes open to papers. They float everywhere, like oversized snowflakes, drifting all over... His vision shifts, like optical zoom in a lens to quick to follow or trace, lines of light lead away to..._

_Hannibal's office. And it is alight with the flicker of the robust fire, the kidling crackling, spitting and illuminating a hospital bed in the center of the room, replacing the dark-wooded desk. Bloodstains have saturated through the bedding, fluid bags, and machinery hover over the once-white sheets. It's empty. Abandoned._

_Will's eyes move from surface to surface before he attempts bending down to pick up a sheet, even as more rain down... Blue eyes scan the poster._

_**WANTED: MURDER:** **Dr. Hannibal Lecter, Age 49, Considered to be extremely dangerous, Last seen in Baltimore, Maryland.**_

_A sickening swell of fear fell over his somehow upright body..._

_Pain erupts in his gut at the sound of his mate's voice, so close to his ear, " When we've gone from this life, I will always have this place..." Hannibal's voice sounds different, pained...He should have seen the signs. " My palace is vast, even by medieval standards." Will can feel the ache in his abdomen grow with each word, he can feel the heat of Hannibal's tongue flick across the shell of his ear._

_"The foyer is the Norman Chapel in Palermo, severe and beautiful, and timeless... A single reminder of mortality: a skull graven in the floor." He looks to his side, finally able to freely move, but now, black smoke replaces what he was too afraid to look at; too afraid to see._

_Will looks to the floor beneath his feet. Each scattered sheet of paper littering the floor, making one large picture, a skull._

* * * 

Will's eyes slowly flutter open. He gasps, wincing as air is drawn into his rib cage. With his vision blurry, he starts to take in his surroundings... He squints. 

The beeping of machines hits his all too sensitive ears as a figure approaches, " How do you feel?" Will tries to look up, teeth clenched. A man in a lab coat-like material hovers over him, clipboard in hand. 

" Thirsty." His tongue was deadly dry, it was even hard to form words. The man, who he assumed was a doctor, lifted a cup with a small straw to his lips. He skirted the staw around with his tongue finally winning the silly game and taking the first swig of cool water. It settled him, he blinked hard, he wasn't in Hannibal's office anymore...He was in a Hospital. 

_And he didn't die._

The doctor's eyes dart to the door's threshold as he puts the cup back down. " Feel well enough for a visitor?" He smiles and then exits through the door. It's left open, Will tried to crane his neck to see out it... but doesn't see a thing until his visitor enters.

_Alana Bloom._

She stands on the threshold still, pale, and in-hospital clothing, a stitched cut on her neck, angry and red. Relife and something else flows through him. 

_She's alive._

Her smile, and ruffled bed head light up the room, her body moving slowly to Will's bedside. Her eyes looked real yet vacant as her lips began to move and pour out a semblance of sounds that fell on his ears, brain working on overdrive to decrypt it like he was regressed into a vegetive state still. " They told me he knew exactly how to cut me. They said it was surgical. " Will's eyes landed back on her neck, she was close but he couldn't feel her warmth. " He wanted us to live." 

Will tried to move, failed, then tried again, his limbs felt nonexistent. He scoffed at the idea that Hannibal wanted anything other than her death. " He left us to die." He muttered, looking down, " He wanted you to die, Alana. And I was-" He stopped at the feeling of his limbs fuzzy, like waking up from a long sleep, chills ran through him, " I was _disposable_ to him. "

He saw her hand cup his, the one with the massive IV it, but he didn't feel it...Why couldn't he _feel_ it? " He gave you a chance to take it all back, and you just kept lying." Will's breath stopped at her words. Eyes widened with what was more truth than a lie.

" I-" Her hand now covered his mouth, he could feel the pressure but not the softness of her skin. He squirmed as the pressure got tighter and tighter. The machines beeped and beeped.

_Why weren't the nurses coming??_

" Why did you keep lying, Will?" He thrashed against her weight uselessly until her lips were at his ear, same as Hannibals's in the dream of another life. " He didn't give you an ending, not yet, He wants you to find him." Will gasps as the hand is removed. She moves back now, robotic. 

Fear runs through him and all he can feel now is his mating bite _throbbing._ "After everything he's done, you would still want me to go to him?" 

The thing that isn't Alana nodded like her head is on hinges where the stitches were placed. Will starts to think she's more him than her...More apart of Will's subconscious than real...So that means.

He must be having this conversation with himself. " You belong to him, Will. Do you think _this_ would separate what conjoined? What is made to be whole?" 

Alana's voice fades, like a soft wind in summer fleeting away from his fevered mind as his eyes shut once more, and the world is back to black. 

* * *

Will awoke to the shy beeping of a machine, his own heartbeat... just the one.  
His eyes flicked open for the third time, although this time, things feel different. Real. He looks down, his abdomen is stitched tight and bandaged, his eyes well up with tears. 

_**He's gone.** _

" Now Mr. Graham, we have to of course deal with the fact that-" The real doctor riddled off condolences, false hopes, and last rights of his manually aborted pup. Will starts to shake, the absence setting in, the empty. " The loss of a pup is a-" More words, more eyes looking at him as the nurses assessed his condition. 

" Again, we are terribly sorry for your loss, if there's anythin-"

Nothing the doc says can curb his anger, his all right rage, it carries him. Will raises his non-wire attached hand as far as he can lift it. " Leave." He gestures. He doesn't blink and waits for his command to take heed. The man just stares at him...

" But we have more to discu-"

" Now!" Will's voice isn't the pitch of an omega, it's one of pain and anguish, his voice now sounds like an alpha gone wrong. 

They all scurry out and he is left to listen to the heart monitor, which then he soon detaches in a rage. He breaks down, curling into himself. Tears flooding his eyes, the sting in his gut a reminder of what he's lost. Of Who he's lost. 

_" You just kept lying, why did you keep lying?"_ The words echo, thump and bend over the hospital walls. Until he's only left with himself and the sinking realization of how alone truly he is... 

* * *

It feels like weeks before he allows the hospital staff to stay longer than he previously allows. He eats his meals in utter silence and wonders why he even attempts to nourish a body without life in it. The food is bland and tasteless, he doesn't go near the jello, each bite makes him think unwanted thoughts about you know who's cooking...How good it was, even though it was people. 

His mating mark burns a deep red whenever he even thinks of him. He avoids using his proper name in his thoughts, the longing has less bite that way. Still, the pain from his seemingly nearly healed wound ebbs, he refuses any more meds from his IV. Will cant feel much, but he can feel pain, he wants to, it grounds him. 

One day he picks up something from just listening to the nurses as they bring him his lunch...

That Jack, luckily, is alive and well. Well..recovering. His life saved by the very alpha instinct to survive and not to remove the glass from his jugular. 

They bussed about this and that while Will got stronger, until one day he heard something that just didn't sound right, didn't sound real... " Eight months? How- how is that possible?" Will asked a female, omega by the smell of her, she tilted her head shyly, holding her clipboard to her chest. 

" Mr. Graham you were in a coma-"

" A what?" The shock of being away for _him_ so long now made sense, the pain in his neck, the stirring in his gut... He'd been away from his alpha for too long. It was making him sick. 

" A coma." She says again, even softer like Will would pounce on her if he had the chance. He wouldn't..Would he? 

Will grits his teeth, " Yes I know what that is I was just-" He ran a hand through his long-wait what- his curls felt heavier than normal, he sat up and they fell around his neck. " I didn't feel that long." 

The nurse nodded and turned away, but before she steps out completely she turns and looks at him, " There's someone here to see you if you-" She pauses, " If you up for it." 

Will nods, it would be good to see a familiar face. But the face is not one he expects it to be...

" Chiton, shit, what happened to you?" Will almost laughs seeing the man hobble with a cane over to his bed, a large bouquet of flowers in hand. 

" Same thing that happened to you I suppose," He doesn't laugh, but it seems like some sort of laughter would cut the tension that had arisen. 

" And what's that?" Will asks, small smile, first one in a long time threatens to displace his permanent scowl. It goes back to where it belongs when Chilton speaks again.

" A psychopath got too close to me." 


	2. You're hard to forget

_" A psychopath got too close to me."_

The words ring in Will's ears as he stares, dumbfounded at the battered man before him, with his throat dry, he gulps, opens his mouth to reply when-

"We have some things in common, you and I. Of course in your case, the monster was in your bed." Chilton rambles off before he can get a word in. " Did you know of Dr. Lecters..." He paused adjusting his crip on his cane, shifting his weight from one foot to another, " _Extracurricular_ activities, before he claimed you, or was his expertise in taking life just an aphrodisiac for you." Will's breath caught in his throat, not because it was a lie, but because it rang true. And that in itself made his blood boil. 

" What are you-" His fists curled, fingernails digging half-moons into his palm.

" You know," Chilton interjects, eyes holding something like pity, a bit more off-putting. " what they teach you about crazed alphas is far from reality, " He plucked a flower from the bouquet smelling it briefly until letting float to the ground. He smiled, " It was a quiet day at BSHI, quiet. We had just gotten Gideon out of the red zone, that was until you-" He pointed at Will, his gaze grew cold. " Went off and fornicated with a cannibal." 

" I didn't know-" Will blurted, sitting up fast, chest heaving. Another lie. 

Fredrick laughed and clicked his tongue, Will's skin stung, his mark began to throb causing waves of heat and sparks to flow. Anger spiked in his mind, " What is your problem Fredrick? Come here to harass the coma patient? Or do you have other things to do with your full schedule?" Will's eyes narrowed as Fredrick moved closer. 

" Gideon attacked me," The beta's eyes gleamed, " Somehow he knew you where...Taken. He was what they call in normal people's world, inconsolable. He blamed me for not being able to mount you the minute you came to me for help. He broke my leg, I can still hear the snap..." Chilton's lips curled in disgust like he was reliving everything like it was fresh in his mind. " It took twelve guards to pull him off of my body. The shards of my femur narrowly missed my femoral artery. I was lucky. " His face softened some, " And so were you."

Will was beginning to think he would rather still be in a coma, locked in his head, where his decisions didn't haunt his past and future. " I wouldn't say that." 

The days that came after his talk with Chilton felt like a blur, but he was getting his rhythm back, his balance. It took a while for him to try, have to drive to get better. But he missed his dogs, he missed his little boat on the sea of a house, and above all, he missed feeling...safe. But underneath it all, he knew he would never feel safe again. His mate was 'in the wind' as Jack put It. And Will, Will was left on the sideline of a disaster that was now his life. 

He had visitors, Jimmy and Bev came to see him, well, tried to see him at least once a week, just to be given that ' he isn't in the mood for visitors today' speech from the nurse. He ate, slept, went to dreaded psychical therapy-even though just the word therapy spoken out loud made his mark burn- and occupied his mind with books about nature, fishing, and anything but reading Freddie Lounds columns in the news...Which there were plenty, particularly about Will. About...Him. 

And above all things, he avoiding thinking about his separated half at all costs. 

The days crept closer to when he could finally go home, sun up to sundown, over and over. Until..He was getting dressed in clothes that weren't designated by the hospital and didn't smell of bleach and chemicals. Although they weren't his, his clothes were cut off of him in a hurry, drenched in blood, trash. 

He moved the jeans over his hips, the buttoned easily, he had lost weight, there was a gap between his hips and the seem of the pants. And the further his eyes went up, the more he begged for what he knew would be there, wouldn't be. 

It was a red angry line above his navel, raised and ugly, a smile. His mind flashed to those lips, those teeth, fangs that tore into his flesh. He shivered and pulled the soft cotton shirt over his head. 

His curls were messy, but better ever since his hair cut last week. He smoothed his beenie over his head and made the path to the front desk. The eyes that followed him were like hawks, they narrowed, the scanned, they penetrated. All judgment, all weary of The Chesapeake rippers last victim. 

" Is that him?" One beta woman said in hushed tones to her Alpha male friend, in their hands a newspaper, Tattle Crime in big bold red letters, the title, ** _' Cannibal accomplice released from hospital after coma; Is he innocent? We have answers'_**

The man nodded and whispered something unable in her ear. Her eyes widened at the comment. " They what?" Will sometimes made eye contact with these gossipers to scare them, this was one of those times. He could feel a growl hitching under his chin when the woman scowled at him.

" You should be ashamed of yourself young man! " Wil snarled a quiet rumble and moved past the growing crowd. He didn't know what they all thought they knew, but its wasn't the whole truth. Not his truth. As far as anyone knew, no one, not even Jack, knew the extent of his...Participation in _His_ crimes. It was better that way, better they didn't know who was to blame or why he acted the way he did. He wouldn't let anyone know him, not ever again... 

" Sign here," The nurse pointed to the discharge papers, smile on her face. _She's probably glad to get rid of me_. Will thought as he scribbled with a shaky hand. He watched as the ink from the pen stained his fingers black, like motor oil. 

He walked out to a herd of reporters, cameras, and people using annoying flash photography before he made it to his taxi. People tapped in his window as the car struggled to get out of the hospital parking lot. 

" How does it feel to cheat the system!" A woman yelled, kicking up soil from the ground.

" Get bent cannibal fucker!" A loud voice boomed before a man with a massive protester sign hurled his body at the car. 

This would be a long, long ride home to WolfTrap...

* * *

Dr. Fell was easy enough to find if you were a person who knew how to navigate the Paris art scene. He was an alpha, but a bachelor, a man who frequented social gatherings and soirees. All he had to do was go to the right one, follow the man back to his flat, and take what he wanted.

It wasn't a thrilling as Hannibal hoped it would be, taking his life. It felt robotic, gleeless, dull. but still, it was necessary, the position that he held or rather was going to hold at the Palazzo Capponi, would do nicely for Hannibal's tastes. For him to move on. 

_If he could._

It was that night after eating on his kills liver, a dish dashed with Brady and lemon, he finally took in the city. Back, after all those years away. He revved his motorcycles as he rode through the cobblestone laced streets. It was supposed to feel good...It didn't. His heart ached for something he couldn't and wouldn't allow it. 

As the months passed, he fell into his work as the new curator, it was everything he wanted. Being around countless pieces of art and history, anything he wanted to study up close was his for the taking. 

He ate on Dr. Fell for some time, tried to keep a relatively low profile, he drank expensive french wines, ate exotic truffles from Italy, and soaked in his clawfoot tub. But still, felt different...Empty. 

Hannibal tossed and turned in his bed, -the bed he acquired by murdering the home's inhabitant, a simple motion as if he was promptly taking out the trash- cold air blew on his sweat-drenched face as he twitched in sleep...

 _" You were supposed, to leave."_ Wills words hung in the air thick and repellant of all hope he had of salvaging whatever he and his mate had. 

_" I couldn't leave without you."_ A voice so horribly scared said, he could taste abandonment on his tongue, and it was foul. _" You lied to me."_ Hannibal's heart constricted at the thought of his love with another. The other omegas smell rich on his skin like an insult. 

_" N-no I-"_ His love stopped speaking, the only sounds that now fell from his perfect lips were cries of agony and pain. Hannibal couldn't stop, a soon as the curve hit his mate's stomach it sunk in deep...To deep. Will reeled in his arms, clinging to him, feral mules and whines slipping from his tongue. 

Fresh blood was everywhere, he cut in further, hand diving inside his mate's fragile dying body, fingers slipping within his guts. _" No, no, stop, "_ He yelled, it seemed like a faraway howl. His hand sunk past Will's lungs, _" Why can't I stop, Will, please no, oh god no."_ He cradled his love in his arms, slick with bodily fluids, the smell of death all around him.

_Why can't I stop?_

Tears bled down Will's pale cheeks as the light slipped from his eyes, Hannibal lifted the dying man, his nose buried into his neck. A new smell took heed. A different scent. His and Wills...Combined. A new life, a new soul. His and his alone. His eyes blared red. 

He had just taken them both... _ **He would burn for this.**_

Hannibal woke to the sound of his own screams, tears made his faded night vision blurry. His chest heaved, " I didn't kill him, " He told himself as he shook...

" He's alive." His fingers reached for the lamp at his nightstand, shaking hands fumbled as the light stung his weeping eyes. He got out his tablet, loading up a page he swore to not torture himself with. The pads of his fingers swiped his lock scream as he typed. 

**TattleCrime. com**

He drew in an unsteady breath as the first of many articles pulled up... 

_" F.B.I profiler who woke from his own nightmare a month ago now gets to go home...The question, this reporter asks, is if that home...in fact, should be a jail cell. "_

_Will._

The name stung in his ears even though he didn't dare speak it out loud. 

He was awake, He was alive...He didn't kill him, he knew he didn't. He purposely made sure to hold the blade in such a way that it _couldn't_ slide in deeper. He would never, could never take his life...He already hates himself enough after his knee-jerk reaction to it all. Even though the vile part in him, the monster, told him to do it, that Will deserved death. He shuttered. 

He swung his legs out of his tall king-size bed, rubbing his eyes with the back of his palms and stepping out onto his patio. It was just past three, the city of Florence was asleep, but he had to start planning and he knew just where to start... 

As the next day rolled in, he emerged from the Palazzo Capponi, his footsteps fell heavy on the staircase leading to the busy square, he spots a familiar face. 

" Hello! Bonjour!" A head of wild hair, not so unlike his mates comes over to him, Antony Dimmond is attached to it, he stands before him, eyes sharp. 

Hannibals brain clicks just fast enough to engage with the man he briefly met months ago, " Antony Dimmond." He said putting on a canine smile.

He could swear the betta blushed, cheeks filling with a pink rouge. " You remembered." 

" I never forget a face." Hannibal tilts his head, eyes narrowing... An opportunity striking. " And frankly, you're hard to forget." 


	3. Organ Origami

Will ran his tongue across his teeth, the food in his mouth tasted like ash and regret. But what did he have to regret? Everything up to this point was out of his hands, or so he told himself. The days were the same, feed and exercise the dogs, apply cream to his healing scar, answer phone calls from Jack asking him-or telling him rather-to come back to work...That they 'needed' him. 

His reply was always the same, " I'm not the same Jack, I won't be any use to you or the bureau." It wasn't a falsehood, just maybe a play on words, on meaning.

 _And with all the blasts lately from Freddie Lounds, I don't think you'd want a guy like me on your team._ He thought. He hadn't had the easiest time leaving his house lately let alone going back to a very public job... But still, Jack prodded, desperate it seemed.

" You're the best we got Graham, different or not, now I know this is hard for you, but-" _He really didn't._

" I said no Jack, have a good day." He cut the alpha off, then, before he pressed to hang up, " And tell Bev and Jimmy to stop coming by the house, would ya? I'm not much good for company." He sighed and continued making his packs dinner. 

There were days where he did absolutely nothing, staring at his ceiling from his bed, head hung over the side as blood rushed to his ears. But on other days he couldn't stop doing things. He was in his shed out back, clinking and clanking metal parts and broken things, convinced if he could fix just one thing, one broken amiss project he could start working on the brokenness inside him, the endless black and turmoil.

The pack would follow him wherever he would go, sniffing and nipping at his heels, Winston even learned how to fetch certain items from the toil box for him when he needed it. 

" Good boy buddy," Will said as he brought back a wrench between his jaws, He ruffled the Winstons fur his coloring a mix of reddish browns and blacks, almost like a tigers. He, Zoe, Ellie, and buster played out in the newly falling snow as Will tinkered at toyed with his obsessive new hobby. He fit the parts together, the satisfaction of the finished project didn't last long, and he was on to another. Fixing things was better than the alternative, the alternative he couldn't entertain. 

He rubbed the back of his hand on his forehead, the smell of grease and frozen earth surrounded him, dulling his other senses, the ones that would threaten to break him. And nothing was worse than being caught in a spiral of self-hatred and violent thoughts that he never could seem to get rid of... He was gruff, angry, beard unkept and the smell of desperation to deny his true desire, he was ripe with it. 

He hunches over a large boat engine on a bench, alongside a thirty-six-foot sailing yacht.

 _The Nola_ , it says in big bold letters it's of it peek out of the shed. Will's hands are grimy, work clothes oil-stained. Will's hand fumbles, semi-carefully reassembling the engine parts. 

He was on his fifth consecutive reconstruction and deconstruction of this particular boat mortar when the intrusive thoughts came in so hard it felt like a battering ram against his skull. The smell of salt, the whip of wind, and rocky unstable ground. The taste of blood in his mouth...So familiar, and alphas scent... But not _his_ alpha. 

He turned around quickly, sensing footsteps, Winson barked aimlessly at the large figures approaching. Will is surprised to see the familiar face, but half disappointed that it isn't _him._

" I had hoped you would come find me. I understand why you didn't." Jack's boots crunch the fresh snow, he was a hat hugged over his ears...He looks down, noticing his fingers are now cold, _when did he stop feeling the cold?_

"What can I do for you, Jack? His breath puffed out clouds of heat, his voice just as brittle as the air, 

"I'm here to make sure you don't contradict the official narrative." Jack leaned against the door of the shed, voice calm and even. " We're officers of the FBI, wounded in the course of heroic duty." Will scoffed. 

"That's not true for either of us." Will looked down to his stomach where a large smile laid below his sweater fabric. 

" That's on me. That's my foul." Jack's words rendered a surprise lift in Will's chest. 

" I'm not sure it would've turned out any different..." Will put down the last of his grease-covered tools and turned to the alpha." H- " His breath caught, almost saying his name for the first time in almost a year...Jack's head tilted. 

" He was.. fixed on the path he was on. Nothing I or you could have done." 

" Is that what you tell yourself? " Jack ebbed closer, his alpha scent making Will squeamish. 

" Yes, I do," Will replied as Jack stepped another step closer. 

" Because I think," Jack's finger landed on his chest, " Apart of you," His chocolate brown eyes made contact with Will's shy blue gaze, " Wasnt there to arrest him." 

" I-" Will backed up, nearly tripping on Winston's paw, 

" I know Graham.." 

" You know?" Will was sweating, not scared, but, his body was reacting to an alpha so close after such a long time...Such a _long_ time. Jack moved in more, eyes still calm but body harsh, ridged. 

" Your pup. That was Hannibals son, wasn't it? " Will visibly cringed at the sound of his mate's name. 

" Jack, I don't-" He couldn't hear this, he wouldn't hear this. Still, he was cut off, he was lesser, he was..just an _omega._

" He didn't force you to be his mate, did he? You played it off as obsession, but it was more. Infatuation. Lust. " The back of the boat's wood was at Will's back, " Love even."

" _Hannibal_ -" He gulped, preparing to lie through his teeth, " His love you speak of, it was Blackmail, blackmail, gaslighting to the level and equivalent of love." He swallowed thickly, the alpha backed away. " Nothing more." 

" Well then let's keep it that way," Jack hollered over his shoulder, " I don't want Freddie spinning more lies about you before you've come back," Jack said as he began to move towards his car. 

" I'm not coming back, Jack." He hollered down the driveway, _I can't._ His head screamed, hollow, empty without his mate. 

* * *

Will ran his fingers down his pillow, It was three in the morning, _he shouldn't be up_. The dogs all snuggled in their beds near the space heater, the snow had stopped sticking to the ground outside. But it was still so cold, so very cold. 

He rolled over on his belly, it didn't hurt much, his scar, or maybe he was too numb to care, he couldn't tell the difference anymore. He breathed deep in and out, he inhaled the scent of his cheap shampoo and hints of diesel fuel, dog musk, and motor oil. His fingers clutched his stomach, the pad of his index finger rolled on the raised tissue he had as a reminder of what he'd lost. He didn't think about it, he couldn't. But when Jack barged in his sacred place, his no-fly zone, he reopened the wound as if Hannibal himself were here gutting him again, it all came to the surface.

And it was getting harder, getting harder to push it down, the longing. Harder to eat, to sleep, to not look at Freddie Lounds's stupid articles that had his name panted all over them as if he was her own personal celebrity. He needed to be alone and the world wasn't allowing him that simple justice...

Then again, maybe just maybe after all he had done...

The dark of his closed eyes now was alight with the rich red of Matthews arterial spray, the taste of warm copper in his mouth, and how much he craved that taste again, The way his shaking hands felt when they gutted Cordel, how he didn't stop with just one thrust of the blade even though he had already killed him. The feeling of power in his veins, the fury. Wild and savage. The person he could not be, the person he would not be with a child in his life...

But now he's gone too... along with his father. 

**_Maybe he deserved it._ **

He shoved his head under his pillow, nose scrunched flat on his mattress. He tried to calm his breathing. But as soon as the absolute tiniest hint of pine and clean mint hit his nose, it was all over.

He sobbed, choking on his own spit and the faint smell of his alpha still locked in the mattress he most likely had conceived his son on. He balled his fists, screaming into the thickness of the bed. He knew this would alert his dogs...He didn't care. He hadn't cried since that night, hadn't let himself feel. Now he feels everything, and he can't make it stop, he can't just turn it off anymore. He misses him, he misses his lips, his eyes, his smile. He aches for him, he hates him. 

No matter how hard he tried, his tear-filled eyes still gazed upon the last thing he should be looking at. He pulled up TattleCrime. com on his phone, fingers shaking, vision blurred. 

He choked on a howl when he saw the newest headline, 

" **Is The Chesapeake Ripper is at large again?** _Body found in Florance, Italy, Human pretzel Or origami? You decide! "_

The single picture of the crime scene set his mind aflame... And suddenly he knew exactly what he was going to do with that sailboat... 

* * *

**“Abandonment requires expectation “**

The words Will had said that day in his office sung through the airwaves of his brain, making it hard to Focus on his current predicament. His troubled thoughts on the subject would have to wait.

“ I was Dr.Fells TA at Cambridge, he was even insufferable then.” The man he had over for dinner, Antony Dimmond sipped his wine and smiled, tongue spitting rude comments as Hannibal served him a roast made out of the very leftovers of the man he so dubiously spoke of.

“ I didn’t know him well, “ Hannibal said, slipping slivered meat into his mouth, chewing, savoring. “ but what I didn’t pick up with my senses,” how ironic they were both using the sense of taste and smell to devour the last of the man's flesh. ” I’m sure you did, “ Hannibal gets up to retrieve the second bottle of wine from the ice trough, casually picking up the ice pick with his left hand.

Antony groaned as he slipped another morsel of tender kidney in his mouth, smothered in onions and thyme to cover the bitter metallic taste. “ You seem like a clever boy,” he played with Antony's hair as he poured more liquid into his ever emptying glass, the beta leaned into his touch. He kissed at his cheek and temple, making sure to thoroughly distract the easily wooed young man.

_I have you right where I want you._

He removed his lips once he revived a shy moan for the boy, and with one swift movement, the ice pick lodged into Antony's temple, hitting the tender inside of his brain, that was now failing.

“Too clever indeed.” He whispered to Antony's still conscious brain as he kissed the shell of his ear.

“I- I- “ the betta sputtered, blood blooming from the deep wound. “ C-can’t f-feel my-“

“ Oh don’t worry, that’s a normal side effect.” He caressed his all too familiar curls before his itching fingers yanked out the pick sending a river of blood flowing all down the soon-to-be corpse of Antony Dimmond.

“ Hmm my darling” Hannibal hummed stoking the non-bloody side of flesh, “ You will make a fine gift for my beloved.”


End file.
